Malfoy Mishap
by StarryKnight46
Summary: Harmony Malfoy is found unconscious in a train station one dark December night. Placed in the care of wizards acting as Muggles, "Hermione" is sent to Hogwarts. What happens when Narcissa Malfoy shows up at school to claim her long-lost daughter?
1. One Dark And Snowy Night

**TITLE: Malfoy Mishap**

**PLOT: Harmony Malfoy, the eight-year-old daughter of Lucius and Narcissa, twin of Draco, is left behind at the train platform one cold December night. She is found by Arthur Weasley, who takes her back to Order Headquarters and legally bestows her upon their friends, the Grangers. "Hermione" is accepted to Hogwarts, but certain things don't seem right. She discovers her past, bit by bit, but what is her reaction when Narcissa Malfoy turns up and tries to claim her as her own?**

**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters mentioned, but I own Starbucks, that one prep school in Poland, Oprah Winfrey, and the Andromeda Galaxy. Hang on… (picks up phone) Well, that was my lawyer…I lost the case…they're not letting me become Ruler of the Universe. So basically I have nothing now, and they're after my hide. Shhhhh…**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was random…sorry if it disturbs anyone…I've just not been myself ever since I lost that case…I was SURE they'd let me rule the universe! Also, this story is written assuming that Voldemort never tried to kill Harry as a little kid but he's still powerful. So that means yes, Harry does actually have parents and a decent home and no scar.  
**

"Come on, honey," whispered the tall witch to her eight-year-old daughter. They were hurrying to keep up with the blond man in front of them, who was walking ahead with his son, who looked the same age as the girl. "We don't want to be late."

"Mama?" asked the little girl, brown eyes sparkling with innocence as her blond hair fell lightly on her fur parka, "When will we go home?"

It pained the blond woman to hear her daughter ask that. She hadn't the heart to tell her innocent little girl that they weren't going home; Lord Voldemort was searching for their family as they spoke.

"Not for a while, sweetie," she said. Seeing that they'd miss the Muggle train if they didn't hurry, the woman grabbed her daughter's hand and began to pull her gently towards the platform. The woman hated to have to mingle with Muggles, but they had no choice. The cold December snow swirled around the jostling crowd. Suddenly, a man, who was hurrying to get to an opposite platform, ran into the woman's arm; on impact, she let go of her daughter's hand.

"Harmony?" she called in anguish. She couldn't see her daughter anywhere. The blond man glanced back at his struggling wife. Still grasping the boy's arm, he reached to his wife and took her hand, pulling her onto the platform. "Cissy! Narcissa! We must go!" he yelled.

"Lucius," she gasped, as they took a train compartment, "I've lost Harmony. I don't know where she is!"

The man gasped. "We have to go find her!"

But at that precise moment, the train began to move.

"No!" cried Narcissa. She leaped out of the compartment and ran up to the driver.

"My girl! My little girl is out there on the platform! Stop this train immediately!"

The driver looked at her. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but this train stops for no one!"

Narcissa began to sob. "My girl…my little Harmony…gone…" she would not be consoled the whole journey.

Meanwhile, the girl called Harmony was searching frantically for her mother.

"Has anyone seen my mama?" she cried, but her small, eight-year-old voice didn't register among the deep, loud voices of the throng and the howling wind. Suddenly, someone ran into her. She fell back. The last thing she felt before blacking out was a searing pain on the top of her head.

The platform had cleared, three hours later, except for the body of the girl wrapped in her fur coat, those of several stray cats searching for food, and for one young man. He strolled across the platform. His red hair seemed brown in the dim light. He came across the girl and examined her closely.

"A Malfoy," he muttered to himself. "This is the Malfoy girl. But where are the others?" Without further ado, he scooped up the little girl and Disapparated with a faint _pop_.

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"You found her at the train station?" asked 17-year-old Bill Weasley to his father, eyeing the girl closely. "Why would the Malfoys leave their daughter behind?"

"Not now, Bill," said Arthur firmly, as he carried the girl to one of the beds in another room. He'd called an urgent Order meeting. Lily and James Potter Apparated into the meeting room, accompanied by their son Harry, followed by Remus, Sirius, Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and the rest of the Order. Mrs. Weasley shooed Harry upstairs to play with Ron, set platters of food out here and there along the table, and placed an Imperturbable Charm on the door, so her sons and daughter wouldn't be tempted to listen in.

"Like I said, I found the girl lying unconscious on the platform," Arthur said. "She's the little Malfoy girl, and I'm wondering why she isn't with her family. What should we do?" he asked Dumbledore, who had just appeared and was the unofficial leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

"I do not know, and I'm not sure why the Malfoys, proud, haughty, and eager to continue their pureblood line, would leave a child behind. So, I think she'd be safer if she was adopted by one of these families."

"And I have just the pair," said Sirius. He indicated the couple standing to his right. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger were school friends of ours, and they don't have any children. They're both magical," he added.

Dumbledore looked at them. "Would you to be prepared to live as Muggles until Harmony finds out the truth?" he asked. The Grangers nodded.

"We're going to have to plant false memories of a Muggle childhood," he said, addressing the group. "This requires a difficult charm, one that I myself am not very accomplished with. It is different than a memory charm. Can anyone here perform it?" Only Mr. Granger raised his hand.

"Good," sad Dumbledore. "Now, give little Harmony all the memories you would like, so long as they are Muggle and are very plausible. And do not mention Hogwarts or that she is adopted." Mr. Granger nodded. He cast the spell over Harmony and began mumbling to himself.

"Thank you, this meeting is adjourned," said Dumbledore calmly. Everyone Disapparated, except for the Grangers, who stayed behind to wake up their new daughter.

**This has been one of my weirdest plot bunnies yet. I need opinions! In the form of reviews!! -hint hint!-  
TTFN, Starry  
**


	2. Accepted

**A/N: Holy guacamole, my dear readers. It's been like forever since I've looked at this story. But people keep reviewing, and I love reviews and I love my readers, and therefore I have decided to take this back up again now that I kind of know where it's going. With that said, read on!**

It was a typical August morning in the Granger household; Mr. and Mrs. Granger had left for work, a dental association that they managed. Ten-year-old Hermione sat in her dressing gown at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and reading a thick book. Her current read was _Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Brontë, which she had already read several times.

However, she was interrupted from Heathcliff's angst-ing by three sharp taps on the windowsill. Her head snapped up, but she couldn't see anyone there. Shrugging, Hermione went back to her story.

A few minutes later, the tapping was heard again. She sighed, marked her page, and went over to the window to investigate. The moment she opened the sill, however, a large bird fluttered into the house.

Hermione chased it around the kitchen, silently willing it to not ruin anything that she might get blamed for. After a good fifteen minutes, both bird and girl were getting exhausted. Wordlessly, as a last attempt, Hermione held out her arm and beckoned the bird toward her. It looked at her proffered wrist for a few short moments, and then, deciding that it would be safe, flew over and perched itself on her arm.

Upon closer inspection, she identified it as a tawny owl from one of her nature books, and also saw that it had an envelope tied to one of its legs. Fumbling to untie the twine with one hand, she finally got the letter free and transferred the owl to the windowsill. Hermione made to place the envelope on the post pile for her father to read later, when she saw that the envelope was addressed to _her_. There, in curly green ink, read _Ms. Hermione Granger_. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to look…

Hermione regarded the stamp on the back of the letter quickly – It said "Hogwarts" something, whatever that meant – and took in the crimson coat-of-arms seal with a glance, before carefully opening the stiff envelope. She began to read the letter quickly, as was her wont, but her eyes stumbled upon the word 'witchcraft.' Hermione blinked several times, then started over from the beginning.

_Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,  
You have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Hermione didn't need to read any further to know that she was going to accept this school's offer.

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"Hermione, we're home!" Hermione had been in her room, trying to finish _Wuthering Heights_ but with little success. Now that her parents were home, she bolted down the stairs and began talking more quickly than she had in ages.

"I've been accepted to a school called Hogwarts, it's a school of _magic_, can you believe it, term starts on September first and there's a school list and the headmaster's name is Dumbledore, can you believe _that_, and oh, it's going to be such fun, so can I go?"

Both her mother and her father looked at her blankly. "Repeat that, please?" Mr. Granger asked. Hermione repeated it more slowly, unable to keep the exhilaration out of her voice. Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged a glance, and then her mother smiled.

"Well, would you like to go?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed. "Yes, I would."

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Hugh Granger lay sprawled on his bed, thinking. So, Hermione was now a witch. His only terror was that Hermione would become a Slytherin. He and Jean had tried to extinguish all of the qualities of her Malfoy blood throughout her two short years with them, and he hoped that her kind memories and new mannerisms would be enough to trick the Sorting Hat into not taking her Malfoy past into account.

His wife sat down on the bed next to him.

"Thinking about Hermione?" Jean inquired. Hugh nodded, then joked, "It's been so long since we've used magic, I hope we haven't lost our knack." She chuckled.

"What if she's a Slytherin?" Hugh voiced his fear.

"Then they will train her to be a damn good witch," Jean Granger said simply, before waving him off to bed.


	3. Why Do I Know You?

**A/N: If I haven't already made this clear, this story is weird and kind of AU; Harry's parents are still alive, Hermione's actually a Malfoy, yeah yeah yeah. Because of this, I had to kind of rewrite this scene so it made sense in the story. **

Ron Weasley, age eleven, pressed his face against the window of the train.

"Excited?" he inquired to his best friend, Harry Potter. The two boys had grown up together and were practically inseparable. Currently, they occupied their own compartment on the train, the seats of which were covered with piles of various wizarding candies.

"Of course," Harry replied lazily, perusing Ron's copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_ with one hand and eating a Chocolate Frog with the other.

"Have you looked through your school books yet?" Ron said, his voice muffled somewhat by the glass of the window.

"No, haven't really bothered, they'll teach us soon enough once we get there," Harry said, still immersed in his book.

"Fred gave me a spell the other day, said that Hogwarts didn't teach it," Ron said eagerly, obviously itching to try it out. Harry sat up straighter. Of course, Fred and George were third-years and knew a ton more magic than the two of them, so of course they knew these advanced spells.

"Go on, then, give it a try."

"It's supposed to turn Scabbers yellow," Ron grinned, pulling his fat pet rat and his old wand out of his pocket. Harry grinned.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" A spark flew out of Ron's wand, and the little rat squeaked and bolted out of the compartment.

"Well, that didn't work," Harry said, laughing. "Should we go find him?"

"No," Ron smirked. "He'll come back. Figures the spell didn't work, though. Why did I even let Fred convince me it would…" He trailed off, grimacing.

Not a minute later, there was a girly shriek from the compartment across the hall.

"Rat! There's a rat! Get it off me!" A few more high-pitched squeals were heard before a snobby-sounding female voice quieted them.

"Shut up, the lot of you. It's a stupid rat. Let me handle it."

Ron and Harry had both dissolved into tears from laughing so hard. "I should probably go retrieve Scabbers," Ron grinned as soon as he could breathe again. He stood up and left the compartment, leaving Harry to snicker.

"'Scuse me," Ron called down the hallway to a girl who was holding Scabbers carefully by the tail. "But that's my rat."

"Oh, sorry," said the girl. She turned on her heel and walked toward Ron, offering up the pet rat.

Upon glimpsing her face, Ron started slightly. He knew the girl! He didn't know how, but he definitely had seen her before somewhere.

"Thanks," he said automatically as she dropped Scabbers into his outstretched hand.

"No problem," she said, smiling to reveal large front teeth. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Ron. Ron Weasley. I'd shake your hand, but I'm holding a rat," Ron said matter-of-factly. Hermione giggled a little. _Why? Why do girls giggle? I wasn't even trying to be funny._ Ron wondered.

"I'll… see you around school, then," Hermione said, turning back into her compartment. Ron offered up a quick "Goodbye!" before pocketing Scabbers and returning to Harry.

"Do you know anyone surnamed Granger?" Ron asked as soon as he stepped in, trying to sound casually curious.

"Nope," Harry replied, more interested in tearing open a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans.

Ron was silent. Why did he get the feeling that he had met Hermione Granger before?


	4. Remembering

Narcissa Malfoy tried hard to smile as she waved goodbye to her young son as the Hogwarts Express departed. Draco was her pride and joy; it pained her to let him leave. Narcissa could barely stand the train station filled with happy parents bidding their children adieu. Train stations always brought back bad memories for her.

Three years ago, she had lost her eight-year-old daughter. At a train station.

As Narcissa left Kings Cross, she didn't bother to stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks. If anyone asked, she could just say that she was going to miss her beloved son. But she was crying for Harmony.

They had searched for months. The Malfoys had been a prominent family until they had been forced into hiding. They were currently living underground. They issued a missing-persons report to the Wizarding community to look for Harmony, but it was never responded to.

Draco had been inconsolable, Narcissa remembered. Harmony had been his best friend, they had done everything together. Even as small children, they would race around and play Quidditch on toy brooms, or try to brew potions without much success, or talk endlessly about Hogwarts and how much fun it would be.

Back at the Malfoy home, Narcissa ignored her husband's questioning look as she ascended to their room. She opened her chest of drawers and drew out a small leather box. The box was dusty and hadn't been touched in ages, but the lock was still intact. Narcissa picked the tiny key from her necklace and opened the box. Inside lay a light blue hair ribbon. Harmony's.

It was the only sign in the entire Malfoy house that they had once had a daughter.

Narcissa sighed before tying back her own hair with the frayed ribbon. Blue wasn't her color, but today, she needed to keep a piece of her daughter close to her. Draco would be writing a letter tonight. They would receive it the following morning. Until that time, Narcissa decided to block out all thoughts involving her children.

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Draco Malfoy sat down with a quill. He had promised his mother several dozen times that he would write to her, and he was doing just that. Hogwarts was _incredible_; the feast was scrumptious, he was Sorted into the very honorable Slytherin (his parents would be so proud), and the dorms were spacious and comfortable.

Draco thought of Harmony. _She would have loved it here_, he thought painfully, recalling the hours they had spent together, talking and speculating about it, planning what classes they would take and which spells they would learn.

A tear ran down Draco's face as he dug into the bottom of his trunk and pulled out a weathered, crumpled bit of parchment. The ink had long since worn, but the design was still there; a drawing of the two of them, both wearing crudely-drawn Slytherin crests, walking up the steps to Hogwarts. Harmony had loved to doodle, Draco remembered. He traced the outline of the roughly sketched face with the tip of his quill, wishing so badly that she had been here with him today. That had been their plan. That had always been the plan.

Sighing, Draco tacked the drawing onto the inside of his bedpost. All of the other boys were still down in the common room, leaving Draco time to be alone. The drawing would stay his little secret.

He sat down at the bedside desk and began to write.

_Dear Mama and Father,  
_

_Hogwarts is impressive. I know that the two of you went here as well, and I am pleased to tell you that I have been Sorted into Slytherin. The dorms are fantastic, the food is delicious. I am hoping to try out for the Quidditch team as soon as I can get my hands on a broomstick and an application. I know those flying lessons will pay off! _

_It is late and I am tired. I will write more to you when I have time. Just letting you know that I am safe and well-fed. Missing Harmony but otherwise happy. I love you guys._

_Draco_

Draco signed the letter with a flourish and gave it to his silvery owl, Wesley. The owl flew out of his window and into the night.

**A/N: I like Draco's letter-writing style. And that he has an owl named after the main character in _The Princess Bride_. Little things like taht make me happy.**


	5. Who Is This Girl, Anyway?

It was the first day of classes, and both Ron and Harry were aching to get started. Grudgingly, the two boys had spent the previous night reading chapters out of their school books in an effort to catch themselves up a bit, but all of that information was miraculously gone from their heads with the excitement now coursing through each of their minds.

Their first class was Double Potions with the first-year Slytherins. Harry and Ron arrived in the dungeons uncharacteristically early and set up their equipment by one of the cauldron stands. Ron set up his cauldron while Harry took out his Potions book.

The only other person in the classroom was the girl Ron had recognized on the train. Granger. Hermione, wasn't it? She had gotten there even before they had, and was perusing a large tome about advanced potions.

"Oi," Ron called to her. "That book's for fifth or sixth years."

"It interests me," the girl replied stiffly, as if somewhat miffed at Ron's inability to think of this obvious explanation.

"But you're a first year! Been doing magic for ages, I'll bet," Ron said. He knew a fair bit about magic, as the sixth child in a Pureblood family, and he would have bet a Galleon that she had too.

"I'm Muggle-born," Hermione said indifferently. She wasn't fazed by this admittance as others might have been. Ron, however, was taken aback.

"But you're obviously brilliant, I find it very hard to believe that you haven't ever done any magic!"

"Well, Mum is Muggle-born, and she's an Auror," Harry reminded his best friend, who silenced himself.

"I can be Muggle-born and still be intelligent," said Hermione. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish this chapter before class starts."

Ron was now even more baffled about this girl than he had been before. Maybe it was the brown eyes that reminded him of someone. But he didn't know anyone his age who was Muggle-born, so he couldn't possibly have ever met Hermione Granger before. But still, he had this nagging feeling that he knew Hermione Granger from somewhere.

The rest of the class filed into the room and set up their cauldron. In a corner, Draco Malfoy sat arrogantly, examining his fingernails. This class would be a cinch; his father and the Professor were friends, so there was no way he could fail this class.

Draco surveyed the room. There, in the corner, was that blood traitor Weasley. Draco knew of the family, despite having never met them. Next to him was the spitting image of the famous Auror James Potter; it could only have been his son. Draco turned his nose up and away from the pair. He didn't need to associate with their kind.

His eyes fell on a girl with a ton of long, brown hair sitting a few rows in front of Weasley and Potter. She was reading a huge textbook. As the girl looked up from her page and around the room, Draco caught a glimpse of her face.

_That girl was Harmony!_

It was her face, her deep brown eyes, the approximate body shape. There was no way that the bushy-haired girl could not be his long-lost twin sister. Draco's eyes welled with tears. He had finally found her. He was about to get up and walk over to her, when-

"Good morning, class," came Professor Snape's voice from the front of the classroom. Draco sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat. He allowed the slight smile to fade from his face as he completely tuned out the Professor.

He would find Harmony again if it was the last thing he did.

**A/N: Wooo! Draco! :D Review if you wanna know what happens!**


	6. Amnesiac?

Draco could hardly wait for Potions to be over. He was finding it very difficult to sit still and concentrate on Professor Snape's drawling voice. Three years ago he'd lost his sister, and now he'd found her; couldn't Snape just finish talking already?

The bell rang and Draco stood up so fast he hit his knees on the table in front of him. He swiped his books into his bag haphazardly and slung it over his shoulder, making his way over to the brunette who was carefully placing her oversized textbook into an enormous bag.

Draco caught himself. Now was not the time for a reunion; he had to go to class and he was sure she did too. But he also didn't want the whole Potions class watching when he would inevitably break down in tears. No, this was to be a private thing. Draco would have to approach this one differently.

"Excuse me," he asked her as she stood to leave. She turned to look at him.

"Yes?"

_It's her voice!_ Draco thought excitedly. This revelation succeeded in robbing him of the ability to think, so he sputtered out a quick, "Um… uh, what did Professor Snape say the homework was?"

"Read chapter three and take notes," she answered.

"Thanks, um… what did you say your name was?" Draco asked.

"It's Granger. Hermione Granger," she said.

"Cool. Thanks, Harmony," Draco said, trying not to shout with joy.

"No, Her-_mi-_o-ne," she repeated. "Pleased to meet you." stressing the second syllable. Then she gave Draco a faint smile and left the classroom.

Well, that was odd. Draco concluded that she'd probably been taken in by a Muggle family, which would explain the unfamiliar last name. Though he didn't have the faintest idea why she had pretended to not recognize him. He was, after all, her twin brother. Had it really been that long? It couldn't have been; he could remember her face clear as day.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and left the classroom, lost in thought.


	7. Glimpses

Hermione Granger wasn't sleeping well. Hogwarts was so exciting! She couldn't help feeling like an annoying tourist who questioned anything and desperately wanted to take in everything. She had written to her parents, explaining that she was in Gryffindor and talking about all the fun she was having. After sending the message off with one of the school owls, Hermione had traipsed back to bed, but sleep evaded her.

She quickly realized that her tossing and turning was keeping her roommates awake, because one of them, Lavender, hissed, "Hey, can't you keep it down?"

"Sorry," Hermione whispered back.

"My mother gave me a sleep potion, if you'd like to have a little it's sitting beside my bed," Lavender offered groggily. "A mouthful will give you a full night's sleep."

"Thank you so much," Hermione said, tiptoeing lightly past Parvati's bed and gulping down a bit of liquid from the bottle on Lavender's bedside table. She just made it back to her own bed before collapsing.

_Snowflakes everywhere. Whistling, whirling past her cheeks. Blonde hair whipping around her._

_A black leather glove holding tightly to her hand. The glove belonged to a tall blonde woman._

_Pain in her wrist. Pain as she was knocked down onto pavement._

_The face of the boy in her Potions class, pressed against the glass of a train…_

Hermione dreamed in flashes. When she awoke in the morning, she shivered, although it was quite warm in the dormitories. Why had that dream been so real? Why could she remember it so clearly?

Hermione shook her head to clear her mind and quickly pulled on her uniform and robes. She made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping to get her mind off the eerie dream. She sat down at the Gryffindor table, a few yards away from the redhead she'd met on the train, and poured herself a glass of apple juice.

She let her eyes wander. The sky was a periwinkle color in the morning mist, unblemished by clouds. Most of the teachers were seated at the long table in the front of the hall, some surveying the students, others chatting or reading the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione's gaze drifted toward the Slytherin table.

There sat the boy in her Potions class. Draco, wasn't it? Hermione shivered again as she scrutinized his face. She felt like she knew him, but she hadn't even known she was a witch for two months whereas he had obviously been a wizard his whole life. She couldn't have possibly known him.

His eyes suddenly raised to meet hers.

_A pair of blonde twins playing in a sandbox. _

"_Mama, mama, Drakie threw sand at me!"_

_Tears and laughter melding into a moist, hot mess._

_A silken handkerchief wiped across wet cheeks, a calming "There, there."_

Hermione started and shook her head, breaking the half-second gaze she had shared with the Slytherin boy. He, too, looked away immediately, pretending not to have noticed her.

What was going on?


	8. Hallowhat?

Halloween was fast approaching, and Hogwarts was getting into the proper spirit. Jack-o'-lanterns and enchanted bats found their places in the corridors and stairwells, spooking students in preparations for the big night. Ron and Harry were excited; Ron's brothers had told him that Halloween at Hogwarts was nothing like anything they'd experiences before.

Hogwarts students had the school day off. The fifth-year Muggle Studies classes lead a small fair on the grounds with booths that explained Muggle traditions such as trick-or-treating, dressing up, and carving pumpkins. The students jumped through hay bales, roared with laughter at the ridiculous Muggle 'witch' costumes, and fried pumpkin seeds over small bonfires. There was also a surplus of candy, both magical and Muggle.

Ron and Harry enjoyed themselves watching a Muggle "horror movie" called _Night of the Living Dead_, carving their own pumpkins, and munching on handfuls of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans. Every once in a while, they would pass Hermione, whose nose was buried in her Transfiguration textbook, attempting to finish the homework they'd been assigned over the break.

"I swear, she does not stop studying, ever," Ron muttered to Harry after the third time they'd seen her propped up against a bale of hay, quill scribbling furiously.

"I don't see why you're so fascinated by her, Ron," Harry told him, not for the first time. Ron had been asking out-of-the-blue questions about Hermione for the past few months, absolutely convinced he'd seen her before. They'd had this conversation before – No, neither of them knew her. The only Grangers either of them knew were Ron's parents' old school friends, who were both wizards. Hermione was Muggle-born. There was no other way either of them could have met her.

"I don't know. She just seems familiar," Ron said, before letting the subject drop.

Later that night, both boys were excited for the Halloween Feast. The food was particularly scrumptious, plus the ghosts took it upon themselves to pop out of plates to startle students.

Suddenly, the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, Quirrell, burst into the Great Hall. "Troll! In the dungeons!" he screamed before fainting.

Ron grabbed Harry's sleeve. "Hermione! She doesn't know about the troll!"

The two boys slunk out of the Great Hall in the subsequent pandemonium.

"If I were Hermione, where would I be?" asked Harry as the two of them jogged away from the Entrance Hall.

"Library," Ron grinned. Where else would Hermione be? The two of them made a beeline for the nearest staircase and climbed a few flights before turning right and barreling toward the huge oak doors.

"Hermione!" Harry called as the doors burst open.

"Mmm," came a noise of acknowledgment from behind a few bookshelves.

Ron and Harry booked it over to where she was sitting, against the shelf full of books about dreams. She immediately snapped closed the tome she was holding and haphazardly stuffed it back into the shelf.

"What's going on?" she asked, taking in the boys' disheveled faces.

"Troll," they said in unison. "We have to get back to our Common Rooms," Ron added.

The three navigated their way through the corridors until finally catching up with the crowd of Gryffindors outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry and Ron began to jostle their way through when Hermione tensed up.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked concernedly.

"I don't like crowds of people," Hermione said uncertainly. Although her eyes saw a hoard of teenage students in black robes and holding their wands apprehensively, her mind was seeing something else. In the press of bodies around her, Hermione was reminded of a scene that felt so eerily familiar…

_Bodies pushing against her._

_Snow falling, tangling in her hair and eyelashes._

_The hurried voice of a woman, sounding fretful. _

"_Where are we going, Mama?"_

_Draco Malfoy's face pressed up against the window of a train…_

Hermione shook her head. This was all very weird, especially that she kept seeing the face of that Slytherin boy in her subconscious. She didn't know him, after all. She shuddered a bit and allowed Harry and Ron to clasp her hands in order to lead her through the throng of students. The boys didn't notice that she seemed to keep an abnormally firm grip.

**A/n: Again, sorry I changed the scene up a bit. I had to for plot reasons! Also, I finally have time to write again! This is awesome, seeing as people have been adding this story to their favorites all over the place. Keep up the amazing work with reviews and such! I LOVE YOU ALL! -Starry**


	9. Letters and Coincidence

_Dear Mama and Father,  
You will not believe who is at Hogwarts._

Draco paused. That sounded really awkward. He scribbled out what he'd written and began again.

_Dear Mama and Father,  
Remember Harmony? _

Stupid! Draco yelled at himself. Of course his parents remembered Harmony, she was their daughter, for crying out loud. He crossed it off and put quill to parchment again.

_Dear Mama and Father,  
Hogwarts is a ball! I'm having the time of my life. The classes are easy, obviously, I wasn't expecting them to be difficult. Unfortunately for me, first-years aren't allowed to play on the House Quidditch teams. Pity, they could have used me.  
There's a girl in my class who reminds me eerily of Harmony. It's her voice, her face, her everything. But she's surnamed Granger and she's a Mudblood. I would ask you if you knew her family, but we don't associate with that sort.  
Otherwise, I am happy and well.  
Kisses,  
Draco_

There, that sounded better. Draco copied the letter onto a less scratched-up piece of parchment and, after waiting for the ink to dry, folded the letter into a parchment envelope. Wesley was living in the Owlery at this point, so Draco popped a few owl treats into his pocket before leaving his dormitory.

The letter was burning a hole in his pocket; he couldn't wait to hear what his parents would think of Harmony's doppelganger. Would they brush it off as Draco's overactive imagination, or would they look into it? Draco hoped it would be the latter. He would do anything to see his sister again.

Draco took up his usual lofty gait, making sure to look down his nose to appear powerful and dignified, like his father had taught him. He passed a few groups of students and subtly sneered at everyone until-

"Ouch!" Draco had turned a corner and smacked right into… Hermione. She was carrying a stack of books too thick to fit into her already overstuffed bag. The books went flying as Hermione stood in shock and began apologizing.

"Excuse me, I am so sorry," she flustered, picking up her books. Draco shook his head to clear the stars that had blossomed in front of his eyes. "Are you hurt?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"No, I think I'm okay," Draco said, shrugging it off.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again.

"No harm, no foul," Draco smiled, dropping his cool demeanor for a moment.

"Well, then… I'll see you around," Hermione said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Peachy," Draco said, and Hermione turned and walked away. Draco was about to continue his way to the Owlery when he noticed that Hermione had forgotten to pick up one of her books. He knelt down and inspected it.

_Dreams: Magic or Miracle? _read the title. He saw that there were a few little parchment bookmarks sticking out of some of the pages. Draco picked the book up and swiveled around to return it to her, but she'd disappeared amongst the crowd. Draco furrowed his brow again as he looked at the little, faded blue book. Deciding to give it back to her during Potions next Friday, Draco pocketed the book and made his way to the Owlery to send his letter.

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**A/N: I'm still a really huge fan of Draco's owl. I wish he was real. Anywhoo, review for more chapters! -Starry**


	10. Harmony, Hermione?

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Ron said, lazily swish-and-flicking at nothing in particular. Harry didn't seem to notice that his mug of pumpkin juice was levitating until it was nearly above his arm span.

"Watch where you point that thing," Harry protested in mock anger, grabbing his beverage before it was out of reach. He took a long gulp and set it back down on the table. The two boys hadn't realized that in their distraction over the floating mug, Hermione had quietly slinked downstairs to join them in the armchairs by the Common Room fireplace.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said. She merely nodded, smiled a bit, and sat down into the third armchair. "What's on your mind?"

"What can you tell me about… that Malfoy? In our Potions class?"

Harry and Ron immediately shared a look. "Draco Malfoy. His father used to be one of You-Know-Who's biggest followers. Then he somehow lost favor with You-Know-Who and his family disappeared for a while. Nobody knew where they were. I was almost surprised to see him at Hogwarts, although they probably feel safer now that You-Know-Who's gone into hiding," Harry explained.

Ron looked at him funny. "How do you know all this?"

"I overheard mum and dad talk about it a while ago," Harry shrugged.

"Lucky," Ron muttered. "My mum and dad don't talk about anything interesting. Not with seven kids in the house."

"So he's… a sympathizer of You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked, unable to repress a shudder.

"Hard to say," Harry said. "From what I gathered, his family's laying low, ready to hide in case You-Know-Who comes back."

Hermione fell silent. She somehow felt a bond with Draco Malfoy, even though she was sure she'd never met him before in her life. But having any part of her connected to dark magic was terrifying, especially since she hadn't even known she was a witch for very long. This was all very confusing. She stood up and bid the two boys goodnight, then retreated to her dormitory to think.

"That was odd," Ron said as soon as the door to the dormitories had shut.

"Tell me about it. Why did she want to know?" Harry mused aloud.

"You know what it reminds me of," Ron said. "Remember that time when we were, like, eight? And Dumbledore called that super late-night meeting, and it was about that girl?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah," Harry said. "Wasn't that also the night Fred and George switched out your toothpaste with jellied rat spleen?"

"That was vile," Ron chortled before the two of them fell back into silence. Ron had no idea why that memory had suddenly resurfaced.

_Crack! Crack! The sound of two people Apparating._

_A redheaded man carrying a little girl into a spare room._

_Two boys watching with bemused interest._

_The girl's head lolled slightly sideways…_

Harry's eyes met Ron's.

"Don't tell me…"

"That girl was…"

"Hermione?" The two of them asked in unison before both of their heads slowly turned to look at the door to the girls' dormitories, where Harmony Malfoy had just been less than a minute ago.

* * *

**A/n: Oh shock and disbelief! Wanna know more? Review, dear readers, review! :O**


	11. Blaise Can't Take A Hint

"Ouch!"

Draco had been lying on his four-poster, his shoulders and head hanging upside-down over the side, when something slammed into the window. Draco had jumped, slipped, and crashed his head against the dormitory floor.

Rubbing the now-throbbing lump in the back of his skull, Draco sat up and looked toward the window. Wesley, his owl, fluttered outside the window with a piece of dark brown parchment tied to his leg.

"What in all of Hogsmeade…" Draco muttered as he clambered to his feet and made to open the window. Wesley flew in, perched on top of the silver-and-brass stand Draco had bought for him, and stuck his claw out. Draco untied the letter and opened it while Wesley preened his feathers.

"Mama and Father never send me post at night. It always shows up in the mornings at breakfast," Draco said to himself as he unfolded the parchment.

"What was that?" came a muffled voice from Blaise Zabini's bed.

"Go back to sleep, Blaise," Draco called across the room before illuminating the tip of his wand and beginning to read.

_My dearest Draco, _

_We received your letter rather later than we would have liked. Wesley got caught in the most dreadful storm and post was delayed for a few days. We kept him here until we had decided what to do about your letter._

_A girl who looks remarkably like Harmony? Surnamed Granger? It sounded suspicious to your father and I the moment we read it. It's very possible that someone found her and took her in. Father is going to discreetly ask around at the Ministry, and I of course will get what I can from my sources. But we would like you to get to know this Hermione. Discover her background. Tell us what you can. If she's your sister, this could be our opportunity to get her back._

_We are glad to find you well and happy and we love you very much._

_Keep having fun,_

_Mama and Father_

Draco folded the note and tucked it into the back of his suitcase for safekeeping. He'd write back later; now was a time for investigating.

He turned his attention to the little frayed book sitting on his bedside table. He'd been hesitating to open it because he felt that this was almost invasive of Hermione's privacy, but he wanted to know everything he could about her and, well, this was one of his only leads.

Draco opened the book to one of her bookmarks.

_Trains_

_Trains are a common form of travel in both Muggle and Wizarding dreams. To dream that you are on a train could represent your life's dream. Depending on the direction, destination or lack thereof, and any number of…_

Yeah, yeah, yeah, this is all a bunch of ridiculous pseudo-magic, Draco thought angrily. Hermione, smartest witch of her age, consulting this nonsense! It was laughable, really. This stuff was dumb. Out of curiosity, Draco decided to make a list of the subjects Hermione had marked.

On Hermione's list were trains, acquaintances, snow, gloves, crowds, sandboxes, and handkerchiefs.

Well, that's sort of random, Draco thought. This was all very puzzling; there were absolutely no clues here. The only thing that was even remotely similar to his memories of Harmony were the trains, where she had been lost, and sandboxes. He and Harmony had played in their sandbox all the time when they were really, really little kids. It had even taken him a little bit to remember it. But if Harmony's memories were resurfacing, there was a chance that she would remember him.

Draco giggled softly with excitement. His sister, Harmony. His twin sister. He was almost completely sure he had found her now.

"Draco?" came Blaise's voice again.

"What?" Draco snapped. It was so like Blaise to interrupt his train of thought.

"Why are you giggling?"

"Oh… uh… go back to bed," Draco said, waving his hand in a silly fashion. He had more important things to do than answer Blaise's frivolous questions. He was about to be reunited with his sister, and nothing was going to stop him.

* * *

**Oh, Blaise Zabini. I will never get tired of you. :) To everyone else: Review! :D**


	12. Novus Vitus

Narcissa Malfoy was a woman possessed. She and her husband had read Draco's letter over and over again to the point where the ink was starting to become worn. _There's a girl in my class who reminds me eerily of Harmony_… Narcissa gave a shudder of excitement.

The only Granger they knew of had been a first-year in their seventh year. His name was Hugh and he'd been a scrawny Ravenclaw boy with fluffy brown hair. Come to think of it, he might have been a Mudblood too. Lucius had only remembered him because the twerp had gone and deduced the password to the prefects' bathroom and proceeded to charm the faucets so that they only would run boiling-hot water. The kid was brilliant, but Lucius had caught him and he'd been given a week's detention.

But Hugh Granger was a wizard, not a Muggle. There was no way that this Hermione could be his daughter if she was a Mudblood. Regardless, Narcissa had asked Lucius to ask around at the Ministry for Hugh Granger's whereabouts.

The answer to her prayers came one night as she'd been making dinner for Lucius and he'd Apparated straight on top of the Malfoy Manor's fence. Upon hearing his roar of pain, Narcissa raced out to the yard and nearly tripped over one of their peacocks.

"What is it?" she asked, not sure whether the manic glint in her husband's eye was from rage or excitement.

"I've found her," Lucius panted as he lifted himself off the ground, ignoring the rip in his robes that had resulted from getting a little carried away with his Apparition. "Harmony. I've found her."

"What?" Narcissa screeched, so loud that several of the peacocks ruffled their feathers indignantly.

"Granger – Hugh, that is – went underground with his wife about three years ago. Strange, too, considering that they were both apparently extremely talented. In fact, Fudge told me he wouldn't have been surprised if Granger eventually became Minister of Magic."

"But what's that got to do with – " Narcissa protested, but Lucius cut her off.

"I found them," he explained. "Living as Muggles. Despicable, really, I can't imagine why anyone would want to impersonate filth."

"But Harmony?" Narcissa prompted.

"The Grangers have never had a child. Fudge said so. But that wouldn't explain the room set aside for a little girl, would it?" Lucius said breathlessly; it was obvious he'd been bursting to say this. Narcissa gasped.

"Our little girl has been living with _Muggles_?" she said, torn between horror and shock.

"Oh, no, they're wizards, Cissy," Lucius assured her. "They've just been acting as Muggles. There is a charm – _Novus Vitus_ – that implants false memories. It is likely that the Grangers took Harmony in and performed this charm upon her so that she wouldn't remember us at all."

"She… doesn't remember us?" Narcissa asked, feeling slightly faint.

"The spell needs to be recast every four years because it wears off," Lucius explained. "So it's possible she is having flashbacks. And if she is…"

"She will remember us," Narcissa said, equally short of breath. She fell to her knees in the garden, not minding that her robes were getting dirty. She was about to see her daughter again.

* * *

**Ooohh. Ze plot thickens.  
**


	13. Precaution

"Professor?"

Professor McGonagall looked up, startled, from the piles of papers on her desk for grading. Hermione Granger stood in front of her, arms anxiously clutching several textbooks in front of her body. McGonagall sat back in her chair and sighed.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" The girl looked nervous to the point of illness, so McGonagall did not quite have the heart to tell the little first-year that students were supposed to knock before entering her office after seven o'clock.

"I was wondering… I mean, you're a very clever witch and all… I mean, of course you are, you're a professor… oh, bother…" Hermione tripped over her words, speaking very fast and glancing nervously from the professor's face to the floor.

"Spit it out, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, sighing. She really needed to get these papers graded tonight.

"How much do you know about dreams, particularly their magical properties?" Hermione's questions was voiced very quickly, then the girl squeezed her eyes shut as if scared McGonagall was going to admonish her for being silly.

"Well, I teach transfiguration, Miss Granger. This sounds more like a question for the Divination professor," McGonagall looked down her nose at Hermione, who was rocking on the balls of her feet.

"Yes, but I can't go into her classroom without coughing," Hermione confessed. McGonagall smirked slightly; she, too, felt that Professor Trelawney's overpowering combination of incense and teakettle steam was not conducive to logical thinking.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Before I tell you the little I do know about dreams, I must warn you that it is a very ambiguous subject and we have a very limited understanding of it. In fact, we are almost no more advanced in our comprehension of dreams than the average Muggle. It is even hotly contested whether or not dreams provide any actual meanings. Are you still interested?"

"Yes," Hermione said breathlessly. She had taken out a quill and a piece of parchment, as if preparing to jot down notes. McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Hermione flushed, but the quill stayed poised.

"If it is to be believed that one can contrive meaning from one's dreams, it is generally accepted that the subject of the dream is something that has been on one's mind. For example, one might dream about taking an exam if it is finals week." The scribbling of Hermione's quill distracted Professor McGonagall momentarily before she continued. "Dreams are the gateway into the conscious or subconscious mind of a person, depending on the clarity of the dream in question. Miss Granger, if I may ask, what is your motivation for being so interested in such a vague and imprecise topic?"

"Well, it's nothing," Hermione stammered, though one raised eyebrow from McGonagall prompted her to continue. "I've just been having a lot of weird recurring dreams about a Slytherin in my Potions class, Malfoy. But in the dreams, we're children. And he called me 'Harmony' during class the other day, and that's been bothering me more than it should."

McGonagall was speechless. She, as well as the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, knew perfectly well that Hermione Granger was actually Harmony Malfoy. McGonagall herself had considered taking the girl in if the Grangers hadn't been able to. If Harmony was beginning to recover her memory, immediate precautions needed to be taken.

"That is indeed strange," McGonagall said in response to Hermione's confession. "However, I subscribe to the notion that dreams do not have much significance in every day life."

Hermione, realizing that she was being dismissed, quietly thanked Professor McGonagall and tucked the slip of parchment and quill into her bag. She gave the professor a scrutinizing look before turning and exiting the office.

Professor McGonagall drew a fresh sheet of parchment towards her and inked her quill.

_A.D., _she addressed her missive, recalling the codes that were to be used in this situation in the event of an intercepted post owl.

_H.G. former H.M. recovering. Not immediate, still dire. I await your instruction._

_-M.M._

She folded the message in half and tapped her wand on the inkwell in front of her. It transformed into a miniature owl. She secured the small paper to its leg.

"To Dumbledore," she whispered into his feathers before releasing him at the open window. McGonagall watched the little owl flutter off into the night, suddenly engulfed in worry.


End file.
